Chapter 31

  To say Ael had been unprepared for the chaos of having two young children in her cabin would be massively understated. She had known, academically, that children were sticky, loud, boisterous creatures. She had not been prepared for the amount of questions, nor for the number of nightmares that pgued the older boy. For although Nereida said that her oldest remembered nothing from their captivity, it couldn’t be normal for a child that age to be waking up twice a night, shivering in fear and refusing to speak about it.

  The children were respectful of her things, but left their toys on the floor. She tripped over dice and throwing-sticks at least twice before she convinced Dymion to part with one of his potato baskets so that the children had a pce to put their things. And while she treasured their ughter, their squeals of joy were a touch overwhelming. Epelda had been a quiet, observant child when she had rescued her at ten. These children seemed half-feral compared to the noble children she had met previously. She remembered Callum, when he was five, sitting calmly at a state dinner, watching the adults and saying nothing. The only times the boys were quiet, either they were asleep or they were pnning. After three days, they hadn’t done anything, but she caught them whispering to each other in the corner more than once.

  That first night they all slept in the same cabin, Alea had awoken to a small knee jabbing into her stomach as little Egan climbed over her to get to his mother. By dawn, both boys had climbed into the bed. One had their finger in her nose when she awoke. She would have to convince Nereida the need for boundaries with them and their sleep. But she wasn’t sure she could even broach the subject yet. The boys listened to Ael, but they were tentative and nervous when she asked them to do something, always checking in with their mother with shy gnces.

  The repairs were still ongoing, but now that the dye in their hair had set, the boys were allowed on deck, so long as they also wore their caps. Nereida would sit on the deck and watch them py, keeping them away from the repair crews, despite the children’s repeated attempts to get close. Of the few times they reached the builders, they were full of “why’s” and “show me please!”. They were also happy to act as junior deckhands, running about between trusted crew, delivering things but never messages. The boys were sharp, but the Admiral was not trusting a four year old with a verbal message.

  Storytelling nights became more difficult, as Nereida stayed in the cabin until the boys were completely asleep. She was often te to the circle, which made a few of the crew grumble. Her stories were still new, still rich, and now that they had accepted her fully they did not want to lose her. Still, the boys couldn’t leave the cabin without passing by the circle, and to make it easier to spot if the boys tried to escape, Ael moved the circle closer to her door.

  The third day that the boys were set to sleep with them was the night of the new moon. The crew turned in early. Nereida walked across the empty deck, looking confused.

  “Moonrise is soon,” Ael told her. Nereida stared back bnkly. “We should get below deck.”

  “At the risk of sounding like Alejo, why?” Ael chuckled until she realized the woman was serious.

  “The new moon is a dangerous time on the sea. We are docked, but still on the sea, and so no one goes out until the moon sets. All portholes must be covered. You do not sleep beneath the new moon; that invites madness.” Ael took her beloved’s hand. “Do they not teach this to your children?”

  “We only teach that one should not travel on the night of the new moon. Not because of madness, but because of the other dangers in the dark.” Nereida smiled softly. “But I’ll adhere to your customs.”

  “That also means no singing after dark,” Ael warned. She raised her finger imperiously. “No lulbies for the children. Stories are safe though.” Nereida grimaced, clearly thinking through her routine. A slow, mischievous grin spread across Nereida’s face. Ael felt her heart flutter at the expression, until cold dread settled in her chest when she realized that Nereida’s mischief was about to be pointed her way.

  “If that’s the way of it,” Nereida said cheekily, “to adhere to your customs, and make sure that I don’t misstep, you can tell the story tonight.” And she flounced away, heading into the cabin, leaving Ael on deck with her mouth open, feeling like she had just gotten pyed.

  Ael arrived after both boys had put on their sleeping gowns, their hair freed from their caps. They scratched at their heads, leftover bits of dye fking off their scalps.

  “I miss my hair,” Alejo pouted.

  “I know, love. Once we can figure out my mother’s charms, Uncle Basiano will try and duplicate it. Until then, we do what we have to.” Nereida kissed both little heads. “Ael is going to tell you a story tonight while I cuddle you.”

  “New story!” Egaz excimed happily. Ael scowled at Nereida, but settled to the floor between the two beds.

  “Don’t judge me by your mother,” she began. “She’s had more practice.” Alejo giggled at that.

  “No one tells stories as good as mommy,” he said proudly. “But it’s okay to only be second best.”

  Straightening her spine, Ael began to weave her tale.

  “Long ago, there were no ships. Each race of humanity was forced to fend for themselves. The earth touched Gnomes and Elves were scattered about the many kingdoms. They also had a kingdom of their own on a mountain in the ocean, but the mainnd bound gnomes felt that they had no home, for they could not reach their kin.

  Some isnds were close enough to fly between for the lucky wind born Sylphs who had grown wings, but they, too, were mostly cut off. The only ones with free reign to travel and spread were the sirens, but since they were born breathing water and not air, they so rarely emerged from their underwater kingdom that people began to forget they existed.

  One day a young Sylph watched a leaf float along the water. She was fascinated by the way she could change the leaf’s direction with a soft puff of air. Excited, she went to find her best friend, a gnome. She expined to them that she wanted to make a raft, but bigger, better. Not for crossing little streams or rivers, but to cross the ocean herself!

  The gnome was a master of wood shaping, and so they agreed to shape enough wood, if only they could try their hand at reaching the Mountain kingdom. Together, they wove a sail, shaped the boat, made oars in case the wind was too much for the sails.

  The pair waited for the moon to rise full; the best luck comes to journeys taken beneath the full moon’s light. They set off together in the boat that was smaller than half a clipper. At first, sailing was smooth, the little Sylph pushing them along with her magic. Unfortunately, as the moon rose higher, so did the waves. The ship mates were terrified. The Sylph did all she could to keep them moving forward and the gnome did all they could to keep the boat afloat. Thankfully, a curious Siren no older than seven years, found them and helped them to shore. They made it safely to the gnomish kingdom, and with the help of the gnomes, they soon made a bigger, stronger boat. This one, named Waves’ Mercy, made it safely back to Sylph territory. And that, my darlings, is the story of the first sailboat.”

  Ael smiled at the boys as they cpped, Egaz calling for more. It was not quite the story she had been told; in the version she knew from her childhood tales, the wicked Siren drowned the sailors but the boot still made it to shore… she liked her version better. There would be no more tales of wicked sirens on her ship. Egaz slid out of bed, leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  “You tell better stories than Uncle Basiano.” She smiled softly at the little boy, her heart blossoming. She dared to reach out and tousle his hair. He giggled fondly.

  Nereida tucked the boys in, kissing them both and rubbing their backs until they both fell asleep. She then wandered over to the bed where Ael sat, and blew out the candle. Their room plunged into darkness, and Ael felt Nereida’s hand gently moving up her leg.

  “Thank you,” the siren whispered, pcing a gentle kiss on Ael’s cheek. “I’ve heard that story before.”

  “Sirens won’t be vilins in any stories that I tell, love. I promise.” She very gently leaned in to kiss Nereida, but in the dark she missed her mark and crashed into her nose instead. Nereida burst into giggles that she muted by burying her face into Ael’s chest. Ael couldn’t see her, but could feel tears as the siren kept giggling.

  “I love you,” Ael whispered, not meaning to speak the words. The ughter ended immediately, and Nereida straightened up. Ael felt the princess’s fingers entwined in hers. Her voice was quiet, so quiet that it was barely a breath.

  “I love you too.” She leaned into Ael, and they sat in companionable silence, listening to the soft sounds of the ocean and the snores of the children.

  FionaRobinsong